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LEGEND 

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Copyright, 1895 

BY 

William Doxey 



Thb Murdock Press 



CONTENTS. 



The Legend of Aulus 1 

Ballades, Sonnets, and Other Verses — 

Wake Not the Gods 43 

Ballade of Charity 44 

The Famine in Russia 46 

Westminster Abbey 47 

The Unattainable 48 

Booth in Hamlet 49 

Ballade of Memory 50 

Ballade of the Dark Hour 52 

Ballade of Death 54 

Mnemosyne 56 

A Greeting 57 

The Cholera 58 

Two Songs 60 

The Isle of Skye 62 

Gustave Dore 64 

The Violin 65 



CONTENTS. 



Ballades, Sonnets, and Other Verses — 

California 66 

Autumn 67 

Jackson's Last Words 68 

Enchanted Ground 70 

In Extremis 72 

Robert Louis Stevenson 74 

Forget Me Not 77 

A Reminiscence 78 

The Singers 80 

Memoria Sacra 82 

A Message 84 

The Years 86 

On the Death of a Cat 87 

Evening 90 

In the Night 92 

The Heavenly City 93 

A Fragment 94 

Vale atque Vale 95 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 



NOTE. 

The original sketch of "The Legend of Aulus" 
may be found in the "Gesta Romanorum." 



THE LEGEND OF AITLUS. 

I. 

Hidden amid the Apennines, there lies 
A lake unfathomable, deep-shelving, dark. 
Strange stories cling about the place, and fill 
The very air with mystery and dread ; 
And often, when on long black winter nights 
The peasant tells them to his huddling brood, 
The children shudder at the shadows cast 
By the unsteady firelight on the wall, 
The women drop their spinning in affright, 
And cross themselves and call on all the saints. 

I, lingering late among these barren hills, 
Saw such a scene and heard this story told : 



2 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Centuries since a law was made in Rome, 
Enacting that no citizen should wed 
The maiden of his choice unless he stood 
Prepared to dower her with gold or lands 
Of value equal to her own estate. 
An evil law it was, but so enforced, 
So straitly bound by form and precedent, 
That none, or few, its harsh requirements broke; 
Sorrow it wrought and bitterness extreme. 

In those dim days upon the Aventine Mount 
An ancient mansion reared its noble front; 
Built of the famous marble which endures 
The slow-corroding years, the earthquake shock, 
Its white walls gleamed beneath the fervid sky, 
Towering in grandeur o'er the roofs of Rome. 

One autumn eve upon its battlements 

A lady leaned and watched the sun's decline, 

Nor watched alone, for by her stood a knight, 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 6 

Equipped as for the field, in mail complete; 
A soldier he of the Praetorian Guard, 
And near the person of the Emperor, 
But landless, with no fortune save his sword. 

Long time they stood and marked the increas- 
ing night 
Shadow the hills and darken o'er the plain, 
But little said, until the stars awoke, 
And in the sky their feeble lanterns lit; 
When, downward looking on her face, the knight 
Saw tears thereon, which, furtive, she concealed, 
And sudden cried, "What, my Faveria, tears, — 
Tears on this night — and I so new returned, 
And after so long absence? — but, perchance, 
By these disparted years thy faith is strained 
Nigh even to breaking, and thy heart, I fear, 
Is now to one more fortunate resigned. 

If this be so " "Nay, Aulus, all my care 

Is only thee to please and thee to love, 



4: THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

And, for these foolish drops, dismiss them quite, 
Or think them but a moment's fantasy, 
A passing whim, for often women weep." 

' 'Pardon, Faveria, pardon these my words, 

Hasty and choleric as my nature is; 

To lose you death, far worse your faith to 

doubt, — 
For jealous doubt is a tormenting fire 
Which eats the heart. Of this no more — and 

now, 
I prithee let me wipe the traitor stains 
That cloud the brightness of these dearest eyes, 
My lode-stars through the desert of this world. 
Yet, in good sooth, it passe th all belief 
That you, who are so young, exceeding fair, 
Of so great name, and all too richly dowered 
Should ever sigh or waste a weary hour." 

"Little it profits to be rich and fair; 

My wealth it is betwixt us two that stands, 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. O 

And for my fairness — Dido's face was fair, 
Yet could she not iEneas long retain. 
Beauty in woman is an April day, 
Mere streaks of sunshine through the clouds 

that rift; 
In youth adored, when time our charm hath 

marred, 
Slight is the homage to our virtues paid. 
In heat of battle men their cares forget, 
Or on the Forum, or in council grave, 
But women sit alone within the house, 
And idly o'er the inevitable brood. 
We smile upon the splendor of the rose, 
Nor see the canker in its heart that grows." 

Then Aulus: "Much, Faveria, have I dwelt 
On this, our mutual unhappy strait, 
And in the night when all my comrades slept, 
Have I, uneasy, paced the camp about, 
Nor found an answer to my questioning, 



b THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Save one, — but no, this black, accursed deed 

Be far from me " 

"Nay, Aulus, voice thy thought; 
What thou canst bear to think, thy lips can 

speak." 
And answer made the knight in broken words: 
"A new decree the Emperor hath passed — 

Thereof thou art informed?" 

" Of such a law 

A rumor vague and unconfirmed is all 

The talk of Rome." 

"Then know that Constantine 

Disbanded hath the old Praetorian Guard. 

Our cohorts, through the empire all dispersed, 

By this disunion lose their primal strength, 

And to the throne cease to be dangerous. 

This edict yet more closely sets the bars 

Which now asunder hold us. There remains 

One way, and one alone, whereby our hands 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 7 

Forever may be joined " 

"Aulus, my lord, 
Make swift thy speech till all thy tale be told." 

" Far to the northward in the Apennines, 

Dwelleth Hortensius, my next of kin; 

Great is his wealth, — yea, greater than thine 

own. 
Blind from his birth, in solitude he lives, 
The castle scantly guarded. All the place 
To me is known, for oft its hollow courts 
Have I with boyish laughter heedless filled, 
And with the step of active youth explored 
Each crumbling stair and dim, remote recess. 
Thither 'tis in my purpose to repair, 
And secret in the night his soul dispatch, 
My horse regain and rapid spur to Rome, 

All unsuspect " 

"A murder! hear, ye gods! 
To take his life who naught hath injured thee, 



8 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Nor in fair fight, but while he helpless lies — 
O most intolerable and bloody thought ! — 
My curses on the hand that framed this law! " 

"Then fare-thee-well, Faveria; here and now 
Dear is thy love; thine honor so more dear 
That never shall the slime of slander trail 
Across its sacred whiteness, and if death 
Do claim me on the field, — right welcome he." 

" To-night we part? " 

"I go this very hour." 
"And thou canst leave me lonely in this world — 
Alone I am; in blankness stretch the years 
Where thou art not; but — hold, were this man 

dead 
To part no need?" 

"I wait upon thy word." 
"Together we might live, together share 
The round of life, its common bliss and pain; 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 9 

The coming death together we might meet, 
Smile at his harmless shaft and know content. 
Enough — 'tis ended; count the deed as done. 
To rush us to our doom the Fates conspire. 
But be thou merciful; make sure thy hand, 
And give his soul a speedy taking-off." 

"Thou speakest to the tenor of my will, 
And now my purpose is determinate. 
But look, beloved, how the conquering day 
Against the blackness of the night prevails; 
I must be gone, and swiftly, nor do thou 
With o'er much thinking knit the troubled 
brow." 

He spoke and passed; she, backward gazing 

there, 
A moveless, breathless statue of despair. 



10 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

II. 

The birds their waking music trilled, 
The sky with early light was filled, 
As Aulus seized his horse's rein 
And vaulted to his seat again. 
The sleeping streets, as on he sped, 
Echoed beneath his horse's tread. 
A moment on the bank he stood 
Where sacred Tiber pours his flood, 
Then past the hill Capitoline, — 
Once of Tarpeian Jove the shrine, — 
And by the old Nomentane Way, 
He reached the camp at height of day, 
And saw the Labarum unfold 
Its veil of purple and of gold. 

The troops by the Praetorium 
Are massed, and slow the Augurs come, 
Portentous, grave, and knowing well 
By signs the future to foretell. 



THE LEGEND OF AULIJS. 11 

Eager they scan the devious flight 
Of birds uncertain. To the right 
They circling wheel — propitious sign, — 
The gods appeased on mortals shine. 
The soldiers cheer; dismissed, they pass 
The idle hour with song and glass. 
But Aulus to the tribune's tent 
Hasted, and gained his chief's consent 
To furlough brief ; and ere the day 
Had glided o'er the hills away, 
Beneath the ancient gate he strode, 
Which guards the great Flaminian road. 
Swift was his courser's pace; he passed 
Pons Milvius, and saw at last 
Between him and the evening sky 
The desolate Campagna lie. 

For five long days he onward took 
His lonely way, with scarce a look 
On hill, or wood, or castled mound. 
Yet where could fairer scenes be found ? 



12 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

For royal Tiber, rolling free 

His murky waters to the sea, 

Companioned him for mile on mile, 

By vale, and cliff, and dark defile; 

And oaks, with leaves of evergreen, 

About his pathway wove their screen; 

Where groves of box and alder were, 

The clematis its glory there 

Now careless trailed upon the ground, 

Now massed some hoary trunk around; 

The broom a passing perfume lent 

To each faint breeze that wandering went, 

And, over all, the burning blue 

Of heaven its airy archway threw. 

At Interamna short his stay; 
Leaving the broad Flaminian Way, 
He rode beneath the scented pines 
That skirt the lower Apennines, 
And sought a bridle track that led 
Beside a mountain torrent's bed. 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 13 

So difficult the steep ascent, 

He reached the top with forces spent, 

And flung him on the mosses brown, 

And heard the water foaming down. 

But night was closing o'er the scene, 

And hill and valley stretched between, 

Although but half a league away 

The dwelling of his fathers lay. 

Beneath a tree he tied his horse, 

And wearily pursued his course. 

At first the path he scarce could find, 

With brier and bramble intertwined; 

The sky with clouds was overspread, 

Chill blew the wind about his head; 

The thunder crashed, the tempest lowered, 

And from the lightning flash he cowered. 

Upon a cliff the castle stood, 
Fit to defy the storm and flood. 
High on the rugged height 



14 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Its walls arose, the dwelling-place 

For ages of a warrior race 

Who drank of battle and the chase 

The keen and wild delight. 
Their ashes in sepulchral urns, 

Drenched with the wine of death, 
Eegardless lie; before them burns 

The taper's flickering breath. 
Small heed have they of praise or blame, 
Forgot their glory and their shame. 



A lamp within a window gleamed, 

Its radiance through the darkness streamed; 

There sat Hortensius. 
Shut from the friendly light, he dwelt 
In visionary lands, and dealt 
In lore occult, the nearness felt 

Of forms unseen by us 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 15 

Wlio know the splendor of the world,— 

The mountain in its dignity, 
With wreaths of mist about it curled, 

And the far-reaching sea. 
Bravely he bore his banishment; 
In dreams he lived, with dreams content. 

As Aulus watched the lighted tower, 
And waited for the midnight hour, 

His thoughts were dark to tell. 
These silent halls had many a day 
Resounded with their youthful play; 
The children of two brothers, they 

Had loved each other well, 
Ere years came with resistless change. 

One wandered o'er the earth, 
The other never cared to range 

Far from his place of birth; 
But each remembered in his prime 
The innocent glad morning-time. 



16 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Aulus was lost to time and place, 
When, sudden showering on his face, 
He felt the heavy raindrops fall, 
And sought the shelter of the wall. 
With stealthy search a door he gained 
By clustering ivy hid, unchained 
The rusted hasp, and passed to where 
He might attain the secret stair 
That to the turret led where slept 
Hortensius. As soft he crept, 
He started back at every sound 
Made on the stairway's crumbling round. 

And now he stands within the room, 
But vainly strives to pierce the gloom, 
Till, by the lightning's fitful aid, 
He sees the couch whereon is laid 
Hortensius in slumber deep, 
Unguarded in the castle keep. 
His head is pillowed on his arm, 
In vain security from harm, 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 17 

And some fair thought his dream beguiles; 
He sleeps, and as he sleeps he smiles. 

With steady stroke the deed was done. 
One sobbing moan he gave — but one, — 
A feeble cry, on earth unheard, 
But angels caught the parting word, — 
For to the knight's astonished sight, 
On shining feather, winged its flight 
A bird that perched upon the bed, 
And nestled near the dead man's head. 
Strange visitant in so dread place, 
And in such hour ! A moment's space 
It rested there; then, uttering 
A sweet, strange note, it plumed its wing; 
Back to the night and dismal rain 
It passed, and ne'er was seen again. 

Forth from the castle fled the knight, 
Nor slacked his speed till morning light. 



18 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Madly he rode to ease the pain 
That ached about his heart — in vain. 
The mountain peaks grew far and dim, 
But guilt and fear kept pace with him. 
He grudged the time for rest or food, 
Till safe within the camp he stood; 
The curtains of his tent he drew, 
And soon in sleep oblivion knew. 

Upon the palace roof once more 

The two are met; not as before 

Hand clasped in hand. Ah, piteous change ! 

Guilt and remorse their hearts estrange. 

But love despiseth fear and shame, 

And to his side Faveria came, 

And softly called him by his name. 

Aulus upraised his drooping head, 

And gently to Faveria said, 

"Three heavy weeks have o'er us rolled — 

Would that their tale had ne'er been told! 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 19 

Of all that passed I may not speak 

To dim your eye and blanch your cheek. 

I sent you by a trusty hand 

A message you could understand, 

And you alone. Hortensius hath 

By me been slain, and now the path 

To you and love is clear; but know 

Could I the deed retract, the blow 

Had ne'er been struck. In battle's rage, 

When men their country's foes engage, 

With furious thrust in equal fight, 

Even then death is a woeful sight. 

How past all pardon is my guilt, 

A friend's — a kinsman's — blood I've spilt! 

My caitiff sword within his heart 

I plunged — a demon winged the dart — 

A painless death and swift he died. 

'T were well with me if by his side 

This night I lay, wrapped in the mould, 

As still, as lifeless, and as cold ! 



20 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

And now outside the walls of Borne, 

Beneath Saint Paulus' lofty dome, 

His body rests. I followed it 

With needful rites, observance fit; 

And, as the nearest of his kin, 

Beheld it placed the tomb within. 

Slowly the passing bell was tolled, 

The mounting music heavenward rolled; 

In rapturous, triumphant song, 

It swept the sounding nave along; 

Its joyous descant seemed to me 

Of lasting life the prophecy; 

And yet — What dost thou think of death? 

Where speeds the soul with parting breath? 

Can spirits from the leaden urn 

Or from the inclasping grave return?" 

" Countless the vague traditions be, 
All touched with doubt and mystery, 
And held by some as fabulous, 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 21 

Which seem to show that all the tale 
Is not yet told when still and pale 

We lie, and friends make moan for us. 
Shadows impalpable may pass 
Through gates of iron or of brass — 
But wherefore dost thou question thus?" 

"A legend of our Christian faith 
There is; or false, or true, it saith 

That upon All Souls' eve, 
Which at to-morrow's twilight falls, 
The dead forsake their sombre halls, 

The grave's embraces leave; 
And on the earth, or in the air, 
They wait attentive to the prayer 

Made for their souls' repose 
By holy monks in church or cell. 
This was my thought: — Were it not well 
That at the evening's close 
I to the chapel should repair, 



22 THE LEGEND OF AULTJ8. 

To spend the night in vigil there, 

And all that I may learn 
To thee at dawn with speed relate? — 
Thereby, perchance, the will of fate 

We clearer may discern." 

"Go thou and watch the night away, 
And I to all the gods will pray 

For thy desired return. 
And, now, farewell, for needful sleep 
Thy body craves, this watch to keep." 

Aulus upon her face, 
Which shone as fair as spirits shine, 
Long looked, to grave its every line 
Upon his heart; then, with brief sign 

Of parting, left the place. 
Alone upon the palace roof, 
She heard his horse's clattering hoof 
Die down the hill, and soon the night 
Was all transformed beneath the light 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 23 

Of the great moon that up the sky 
Swam in her billowing majesty. 

III. 

As Aulus neared the church, he heard the bell 
For vespers peal from the adjacent tower, 
And stayed his steps, subdued beneath the 
spell, 
The soft enchaining of the evening hour. 
The dry earth, kissed to freshness by a 
shower, 
Was very fair; he looked, and groaned aloud; 
For him had Nature lost her healing power; 
The autumn moon, emerging from a cloud, 
Seemed to his gaze a dead face gleaming from 
its shroud. 

Of all the great basilicas in Eome, 

Not one more famed than this where now 
is laid 






24 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Hortensius, closed within his narrow home; 
For here St. Paul's long resting-place is 

made; 
The columned arch, the altar dim-arrayed, 
The timbered roof, and sculptured architrave, 

The past proclaim, in dignity displayed. 
And now the bell hath ceased; within the nave 
The people pass; with them the knight, apart 
and grave. 

The final Gloria had long been sung, 

But Aulus still before the altar kneeled, 
And to the priest confessed, with faltering 
tongue, 
And his intent to watch that night revealed. 
Silent the holy father heard, unsealed 
The wrath of heaven, and penance dire 
imposed, 
And his assent unwillingly did yield, 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 25 

Then slow the chapel left. The door was 
closed. 
Alone the knight remained with those who 
there reposed. 

Hour after hour fled on. The silences 
Of night, more dreadful than its sounds, 
he heard, 
And was aware of ghostly presences, 

That, flitting by, the air about him stirred. 

But no hand touched him, nor did any word 

The stillness break. His vigil grew apace. 

At midnight came a rush of wings that 

whirred 

Rapid and ceased; — a light, and lo! the face 

Of dead Hortensius, lit by a resplendent grace. 

A lucent angel held him by the hand, 

And to the trembling knight these words 
addrest: 



26 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

"Hear thou the will of God, by whose com- 
mand 
Have I this night to Hades passed, to wrest 
This soul from its confines, and with the 
blest 
On high to seat him. Now his joys begin. 

Thy doom attend; — by the Divine behest 
To thee are granted thrice ten years wherein 
His pardon thou mayst seek who can forgive 
thy sin. ,, 

Swift as a flash of light, the twain were gone, 
And Aulus gazed into the gloom profound, 
And cast himself the marble floor upon, 
And prayed for death, and sank into a 

swound. 
Him thus the priest at early morning found, 
And with his cares revived. Free from that 
hall, 
How pure the dawn, what music in each 
sound ! 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 27 

He was as one escaping from a pall. 
Straight to Faveria he passed, and told her all. 

IV. 

Upon her white hand leaning her gold head, 
The tale Faveria heard, then, soft, she said: 

"Aulus, my lord, no man upon this earth 

Of his own will had e'er been brought to birth; 

For who would choose some doubtful years to 

live 
Where pain abides and joy is fugitive ? 
Great are our sorrows, and our pleasures small; 
Nor know we when the fatal stroke may fall; 
The very trees have longer date than we, 
The birds more happy, and the beasts more free; 
And when Mercurius shuts the door on us, 
And on our white lips lies the obolus, 
The scene is closed, nor can we surely know 
If to Elysium or the Shades we go. 



28 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

But the high gods have given to mortals love, 
With all the bitter and the sweet thereof; 
Therefore I do accept these thirty years, 
And, since I love thee, banish idle fears. * 
Here is my hand, I pledge thee fealty — 
Yea, by the head of Jove, I swear to thee." 

Low bent the knight and kissed his lady's hand, 
With whispered words that lovers understand, 
And silence was between them for a space, 
Until Faveria looking on his face 
Beheld it troubled. " Why so sad, my lord? " 
She murmured with caressing in each word. 
"Not sad, Faveria," replied the knight, 
"When you are by me sadness taketh flight; 
But when I pass beyond your beauty's sway, 
I dread the night and fear the coming day, 
For I believe (such is the Christian creed) 
That vengeance follows on an evil deed. 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 29 

A heavy penance yet remains to dree 
Ere from the stain of blood this hand is free; 
E'en then most hardly I my soul shall save, 
And terror shrouds the gulf beyond the grave." 

Abrupt he paused, — Faveria answered low, 
"Of this new worship little do I know, 
For I in early youth to Gaul was sent, 
Whither my father with his legion went; 
In secret there he kept the ancient faith, 
And vowed me to it with his latest breath. 
But for this Christus whom you tell me of 
With his strange emblems of the fish and dove, 
If he, indeed, his majesty resigned, 
And suffered on the cross for all mankind, 
And bent his back beneath the scourger's rod, 
Bethink thee — he must be a gentle god. 
Make thou lustration due before his shrine, 
Consult the omens and thy fate divine." 



30 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

"A useless task, for no such sacrifice," 
Said Aulus, "may find favor in his eyes; 
He asks alone a pure and contrite heart, 
And wills that men from evil shall depart; 
For he who highest heaven would hope to win 
Must purge his conscience and abjure his sin. 
But all these matters are for you too deep, — 
Your eyes are heavy, — go, my love, and sleep. 
Since you are willing o'er this heart to reign, 
These shadows shall not long disturb my brain. 
Perish the past — a new life hath begun — 
Our faiths may differ but our hearts are one. 
This night I go the castle to prepare, 
Ne'er 'neath its lintel borne, a bride so fair." 

Ere the next silver moon its light had shed, 
All was accomplished and the twain were wed. 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 31 



With light the castle shines; its windows blaze 
Like jewels, in the dark. A festal night 
Is this when Aulus welcomes back his son 
From distant wars. Where'er the eagle flew 
His steps had followed. Now in triumph come 
The legions home. Janus his gates hath closed; 
Peace rules the Eoman world; the peoples rest. 

In the triclinium the feast is spread, 

Whose floor of rich mosaic fitly blent 

Upholds the ivory couches gold inlaid, 

Or curious carven of the tortoise shell. 

The men recline; graceful the women lean 

On silken pillows soft as woven wind. 

The dice are cast and Lucius wins the throw, 

And to the seat of honor Aulus leads 

His only son; well pleased the mother smiles. 

Now slaves approach laden with dewy crowns 

Of freshest roses; these the guests adjust; 



32 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

A distant music sounds, the feast begins, 
And all is laughter, jest, and quick reply. 

Upon Faveria's brow a shadow lies; 
Frequent her smile and seeming gay her mien, — 
But seeming only, for 't is All-Souls' Eve, 
And thirty years have noiseless winged away, 
Too happy to be noted in their flight. 
Now she remembers slain Hortensius, 
The midnight vigil and the angel's words, 
Veiled, yet foreshadowing mysterious woe; 
And vaguely fears yet knows not what she 

fears. 
For Aulus, while resisting all her wiles 
To win him back unto the ancient faith, 
Is to his own become indifferent. 
The mass he still attends, and due observes 
All customary rites, but penitence 
And prayer are little in his thought or deed. 
With careful glance her husband's face she eyes; 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 33 

No gloom is there; among his guests he moves, 
A courteous host, a chivalrous, proud knight, 
And all her heart goes out to him in love, 
And she is glad that he remembers not. 

And now the wine is poured. The guests 

arise 
And drink in silence; to the Thunderer first, 
And then to all the gods, and to the shades 
Of heroes dear to every Eoman heart; 
And toast succeeds to toast and songs are 

heard 
In sweet accord with the low-breathing lute, 
When one, more near to Lucius than the rest, 
His chosen friend and comrade in the wars, 
Thus cries, "My Lucius, do you still retain 
The careless measures of the song you made 
In Africa? Eight jocund did it ring 
Around our camp-fire in the starry night." 
And Lucius at his bidding merry sings: 



34 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Ho, brothers, while we 're marching 

Throughout the dusty day, 
With black clouds over-arching, 

And danger by the way, 
Wine makes our spirit light, 
And cheers us for the fight; 
Then pass the flagon gaily, 
And sing this anthem daily, 
Hail to the gods, all gods above, 
The noble gods of wine and love ! 

The night mists round us hover, 
There 's wailing in the wind — 

The amphoras uncover, 
The maid we love is kind; 

And since life may not last, 

We make it no long fast, 
But pass the flagon gaily, 
And sing this anthem daily, 

Hail to the gods, all gods above, 

The noble gods of wine and love ! 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 35 

With joyous palm the laughing guests applaud; 

The mother a reproving finger shakes, 

And gently speaks, "My Lucius, for the camp 

Thy strain is fit, but strange in ladies' ears. 

Give now command that the musicians play 

The little simple song I used to sing 

Over thy cradle in the years agone; 

Thy father made it in an earlier day." 

And Lucius waves his hand, the harps prelude 

Upon their silver strings and voices rise: 

u 

O, love is beautiful ere he grows old, 

Full of surprises, gentle and kind ! 

Feathery ashes, a hearth that is cold, 

Stript of disguises, fools, fools and blind! 
Eheu fugaces, 

Old love, adieu! 
Time as it passes 
Parts me and you. 



36 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

O, love is beautiful when he grows old, 

Tried by distresses, tender, divine, 
Stronger than iron and purer than gold, 
Our life he blesses, your life and mine. 
Eheu fugaces, 

Say not adieu ! 
Time as it passes 
Binds me and you. 

The night wears onward to the turning hour. 
A sudden storm bears downward from the north; 
Around the house in frantic glee it sweeps, 
But by the merry throng is scarce remarked. 
Intent some watch the fortunes of the dice, 
And other some along the level board 
The balls of sparkling agate whirling send. 
At last the players from their curtained seat 
Intone the solemn movement of a hymn, 
Austere and sad, befitting well the theme, 
But in so gay concourse, all unexpect. 



THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 37 

Ye direful Fates! Creatures of death and doom! 

Let me no longer plead to you in vain. 
Reverse the busy, ever-turning loom, 

Wherein is spun my life's entangled skein. 

Weave but a thread of silver in the woof, 
And leave the warp all dark as now it is, 

Then shall I praise you, and for your behoof 
Bring golden gifts, disastrous deities. 

Implacable! the dreary voices moan 
Low, dreadful words of horror and despair: 

Thy fate is fixed, forth shalt thou fare alone, 
A viewless ghost upon the wandering air. 

Scarcely have died away the closing chords 
When through the open casement flies a bird 
Of silken plumage, brown with flecks of gold, 
And on the breast and wings a purple dye. 
Dazed by the storm, it circles round the hall, 



38 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

With never-ceasing cry, unearthly sweet, 
But sorrowful beyond all human speech. 
And Aulus sees and knows the bird of fate, 
For close beside him stands Hortensius, 
Invisible to all save only him. 
No darkness on his brow, no wrathful look, 
But pardon, pity, and enduring love, 
And on his lips the smile that angels wear. 

Then Aulus, as a reed before the blast 
Is bent and shaken, bows his head in fear 
And penitence and bitter late remorse. 
Clear and insistent rings the warning cry, 
And summoning the rebel powers of will 
An upward glance he casts — the Shade hath 

passed. 
Within his own he takes Faveria's hand, 
And pointing to the bird, thus to his wife 
Exclaims, "All 's at an end — the hour of doom 
Hath struck — the messenger of ill, behold! 



THE LEGEND OF AULU8. 39 

Be brave, thou dearest heart." With ready- 
grasp 

A bow he seizes, that with other arms 

Upon the wall is hung; the arrow fits: 

Upon its helpless prey straight speeds the 
shaft; 

The tender body fallen to the ground, 

Flutters a wounded wing and then is still. 

Each to the other looks, but scant the time 

For word or look or taking of farewell. 

The mighty rock whereon the castle stands 

Instant apart is rent, and to the black 

Abyss unknown, immeasurable, 

Is flung the ancient house and all that folk. 

Unuttered woe! From the deep heart of 
earth 

A sluggish water pours, and all is told. 

Of that so joyous band not one remains. 

God rest their souls and give them of his 
peace ! 



40 THE LEGEND OF AULUS. 

Still stands the cliff, and little clinging vines 
Its creviced sides have broidered all with green; 
Over its slopes the wild anemone 
Wanders in color, and the bracken waves, 
And through its feathery grasses sighs the 

wind; 
But rare the foot of man, for it is said 
That upon All-Souls' Eve when spirits tres- 
passed 
Do brief to earth return, upon the height 
Its massive front the castle rears anew, 
Lights from the windows gleam and music 

floats, 
And voices send their carol through the night. 
The infrequent traveler checks his steed to 

gaze, 
But when he looks again, no castle there, 
Only the great rock silvered by the moon; 
Nor any sound is in that solitude 
Except the sullen plashing of the lake. 



BALLADES, SONNETS, AND OTHER 
VERSES. 



WAKE NOT THE GODS. 

Wake not the dreadful gods; we say their sleep 
Will last unbroken through the centuries; 
But should we err, assuredly for these 

Our halcyon days we shall be made to reap 

A bitter harvest. Over us shall sweep 

The wrath which no oblation may appease. 
Since it mislikes them that their slaves should 
seize 

One hour wherein they may forget to weep. 

For this, for this the gods are envious, — 
Never for them the unforeseen delight, 
The uncertain rapture which must have an 
end, 
Yet, while it lasts, illumes the world for us, 
The summer lightning of life's stormy night, 
When soul draws nigh to soul, and friend 
meets friend. 

43 



BALLADE OF CHAEITY. 

When gentle dames together sit 
And gossip, as they sometimes will, 

I fear that while they sew and knit 
And dainty China tea-cups fill, 
A careless drop or two they spill, 

Less soothing than the rare Bohea, 
Nor, while they reputations kill, 

Let fall the veil of Charity. 

Success succeeds; we worship it; 

The golden calf we follow still. 
The man who fails we coldly twit 

With lack of brains and strength and skill, 

And with our mocking glances chill 
The heart that aches for sympathy. 

Oh, for a drop from Pity's rill! — 
Let fall the veil of Charity. 

44 



BALLADE OF CHARITY. 45 

I have, I frankly must admit, 

A liking for poor Tom or Bill, 
Who, like myself, get hardly hit, 

In climbing up Life's rugged hill. 

With many a scramble, many a spill. 
We trudge along in company, 

Upon our mingled good and ill 
Let fall the veil of Charity. 

ENVOY. 

Princess, my song hath little wit; 

Of thy divine sweet clemency, 
Upon the words that here are writ 

Let fall the veil of Charity. 



THE FAMINE IN KUSSIA. 

Ill shall it be in time to come for those 

Who, careless living 'neath a bounteous sky, 
Calmly indifferent, can hear the cry 

Of thousands helpless in the mortal throes 

Of desolating hunger. If we chose 

What saving ships across the sea should fly 
Climbing th' uneasy wave, each day more 
nigh 

To the sad northern land of steppes and snows. 

Almighty God ! If by a miracle, 

As in old days, thou now shouldst prove thy 
power 
And show the exceeding brightness of thy 
face 
So long withdrawn — ! With love unspeakable 
Touch thou men's hearts, and but for one 
short hour 
Let mercy all the suffering world embrace. 
4 6 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

From these stained windows what a light is 
thrown 
By the descending sun, what tender blues, 
What passionate purples blend their varied 
hues 

O'er nave and roof and ancient carven stone ! 

Now there arises the melodious tone 
Of voices which such harmonies diffuse, 
As in their harpings heavenly seraphs use; 

And hark, the organ's supplicating moan ! 

Seems it not well that through this wondrous 
pile, 
Which guards the ashes of the sons of song, 
Whose souls have fled to stars beyond our 
ken, 
Music should echo on from aisle to aisle, 
And evermore its cadences prolong 

Throughout the Mecca of all Englishmen ? 

47 



THE UNATTAINABLE. 

Dreaming I stand upon a mountain side; 
Beneath me is a forest, and beyond 
A marshy plain whose every little pond 

Shines like a shield, for it is evening-tide. 

What farther lies? Do not these dim woods 
hide 
A faery place ? For when I most despond, 
Faint bells I hear, — or is it but my fond 

Vague fancy? — chiming through the forest wide. 

What is beyond the shimmering morass? 
I may not know, nor whether gods or men 
Do there inhabit; nor by what strange 
spell 
Nightly am I constrained to rise and pass 
To the weird forest, and the phantom fen, 
Only to hear, far off, that pleading bell. 
48 



BOOTH IN HAMLET. 

Once in Life's rosy dawn I saw the towers 
Of Elsinore rise on the pictured scene; 
The king, the ghost, and the unhappy queen 

I saw, and fair Ophelia with her flowers, 

And heard the slow bell toll the passing hours; 
But when you entered with dejected mien, 
The others seemed as though they had not 
been; 

We wept with Hamlet, for his griefs were ours. 

And here, to-night, amid the listening crowd 
That hangs upon your lips, I see the flame — 
The sacred fire nor time nor age can quell, 
Howe'er the mortal frame be changed and 
bowed, — 
Burn clear as the high places whence it came. 
Pass on, thou royal Dane; hail and fare- 
well! 



49 



BALLADE OF MEMOEY. 

This night my soul shall liberate 

Itself from brooding mists, and fly 
Where the old dreams and fancies wait 

Beneath a magical fair sky. 

Soft, scented breezes, passing by, 
Shall lull me into slumber deep, 

And nothing hurtful shall come nigh 
To rend my heart, to break my sleep. 

One happy dream to compensate 

For grievous years on years ! My cry 
May reach the gods, my low estate 

From their bright seats they may descry, 

And send a blessed memory 
Which shall have strength afar to keep 

Sad thoughts that come, I know not why, 
To rend my heart, to break my sleep. 
50 



BALLADE OF MEMORY. 51 

My soul remains a leaden weight. 

The gods were kinder to deny 
Our vain desires than grant too late. 

How cold, with what averted eye 

The past returns; it will not die, — 
Its haunting shades about me creep, 

And miserably sob and sigh, 
To rend my heart, to break my sleep. 

ENVOY. 

Princess, be warned, nor tempt thy fate, 
Else shalt thou have full cause to weep, 

When ghostly memories pass thy gate, 
To rend thy heart, to break thy sleep. 



BALLADE OF THE DARK HOUR. 

In happy hours that careless went, 

Through many a bright, unconscious year, 
With friends whose smiles new gladness lent 
To youth's sweet morning, dew-besprent, 
From skies that seemed as crystal clear, 

No warning shade was thrown 
To prophesy the coming fear 
Of our dark hour alone. 

Then sorrow came. On us she bent 

Her look; she drew more near. 
At first we knew not what she meant. 
"Pass on!" we cried; "you are not sent 
Life's opening buds to sear. 

Pass on to lands unknown!" 
Ah me ! she watched the first sad tear 
Of our dark hour alone. 
52 



BALLADE OF THE DARK HOUR. 53 

Since then she dwells beneath our tent, 

Never to disappear. 
She only hears when we lament 
Our hidden griefs and hours misspent, 
And lost loves on the bier; 

For she at length has grown 
Into our souls to domineer 
O'er our dark hour alone. 



ENVOY. 

Prince, of the Present make good cheer, 
For you her sway shall own, 

Prostrate before her brow austere 
In your dark hour alone. 



BALLADE OF DEATH. 

That we may live our lives at all, 
The cunning gods have thrown 
A curtain heavy as a pall, 
And raised a high dividing wall 
Before the land unknown 
Whose bliss none uttereth, 
To keep each weary, earthworn thrall 
From the soft arms of death. 

And fears that stoutest hearts appall 

Within man's breast are sown. 
Life's cup is mingled wine and gall; 
He hath his days of festival, 
Which claim him for their own, 
So his foot tarrieth; 
He dreads to leave his lighted hall 
For the soft arms of death. 

54 



BALLADE OF DEATH. 55 

The creatures of a day, we crawl 

Each on the earth alone, 
Eager our brother to forestall, 
Nor heed the murmur mystical, 
The ceaseless undertone 

Of that low voice which saifch: 
'Soon shalt thou leave this idle brawl 
For the soft arms of death." 



ENVOY. 

Friend, when for me the shade shall fall, 

With my last failing breath 
My soul to your dear soul shall call 

From the soft arms of death. 



MNEMOSYNE. 

Queen of the Muses, I have loved thee well. 
Still in thy temple, servile, suppliant, 
Have I besought the shadowy ghosts that 
haunt 

Thine inmost shrine, petitioned them to tell 

Of the gray past, and all that there befell. 
Now thy mysterious songs no more enchant, 
Thy hoarded wisdom is an idle vaunt. 

Have mercy on thy slave — undo the spell! 

The dwellers on the far Olympian heights 
Have joy in thee, immortal, calm, content, 
With futile tears their eyes are never wet. 
But I remember only lost delights, 
And languish in perpetual banishment 
From all desired things. Let me forget. 



56 



A GREETING. 

Now in Midwinter, see! the buds unfold; 

The yellow poppies open one by one; 
The mountain streams, bound by no despot cold, 

Flash through the woods, rejoicing as they 
run. 
A most fair land: it is the land of gold; 

It is the land of pleasure and the sun, 
Pacific as the waters round it roiled. 

Come hither, all ye wretched, wronged, fore- 
done ! 

Here Freedom dwells, and all men worship her. 

Throned in the west, she sendeth from afar 
Words of good-will, a radiant messenger 

Of love to all, the holiest avatar. 
Peasant and prince, and you, philosopher, 

Sail bravely in across the Golden Bar; 
Leave mooning o'er the past and days that were; 

Behold the triumph of the days that are ! 

57 



THE CHOLEEA. 

CHANT FUNEBRE. 

Others may fear thee; what care I 
How soon thy stilling hand be laid 

Upon this heart? I shall not sigh 
To be again a shade. 
Upon the shore 

Of Acheron I 've friends galore. 

But this poor simple earth of ours 
Doth all her uncomplaining best 

To keep, with music, light and flowers, 
The young ones in her nest. 
The old, the worn 

Be thine — the tares amid the corn. 

Majestic pestilence! — be kind; 

Take not the mother from her child, 

58 



THE CHOLERA. 59 

The youth from her — for love is blind — 
Who late upon him smiled. 
Pass not their way — 
They 11 welcome thee some future day. 

For here, alas ! too many are 

With toil and sorrow quite undone, 

Who long to reach a purer star 
Where love and life are one. 
Short is thy shrift: 

A moment — and the shadows lift. 



TWO SONGS. 



I. 



If where you dwell, in other lands, 
Tour soul and mine should meet, 

O, would you take my waiting hands, 
Or pass with hasty feet? 

It may be in that purer air 

A clearer sight is given, 
And hearts may meet with rapture there, 

That here by fate were riven. 

And so, I watch the lagging years 

Go on, in cloud and rain, 
For somewhere in those mystic spheres 

We two shall meet again. 



60 



TWO SONGS. 61 



II. 



Believe not that the idead forget, 
In this most peaceful place; 

My heart is heavy with regret 
Because of thy fair face. 

Forgive the colder, duller brain 
That could not understand 

Thy love, nor to its heights attain 
In that obscurer land. 

By the white doors of living light 
I wait, I watch for thee, — 

The first to greet thy nearing flight 
Of all this company. 



THE ISLE OF SKYE. 

The dream returns, I have my wish, 

I see Dunvegan's Hall; 
The moon sleeps fair on Grishornish, 

I hear the boatmen call; — 
And it 's O, for a nook in a broomy dell, 

Where the thyme its balm distils, 
And the rich, rare smell of the heather-bell 

That grows on the Highland hills. 

What song is that, so quaint and sad? 

Down the gray loch it rings; 
The summer days when I was glad 

Before my eyes it brings; 
And it 's O, for the kindly Northern speech, 

And the simple fisher-folk, 
And the tangled reach of the wild sea-beach, 

Where my soul to life awoke. 

62 



THE ISLE OF SKYE. 63 

The South is fair, but not to me; 

Though by the sunlight kissed, 
It lacks the nameless witchery 

That wraps the Isle of Mist; 
And it 's O, when in earth I lie alow, 

By the far Hebridean wave, 
May the heather grow, and the west wind blow 

Round a long-forgotten grave. 



GUSTAVE DORE. 

In what gray fields and by what slow, strange 
streams 
Dost thou abide, and is thy pencil still 
Busy with phantasies and shapes of ill? 

Perchance thou hast forgotten earthly dreams, 

And fame to thee a faded vision seems, 

Since of Nepenthe thou hast drunk thy fill, 
And watched the grapes of Proserpine distil 

Their juice in some dim vale where faint light 
gleams. — 

That fabled land by no man visited 
Since wan Eurydice the singer bore 
Nigh to the dreadful gates — upon its shore 

Hast thou found rest for weary heart and head? 
Or doth the raven sit above the door? 

Is there remembrance with the shadowy dead? 



THE VIOLIN. 

The Master's fingers from his violin 

Draw forth a melting music, soft and slow; 
Quavers in air the faint adagio; 

The scherzo follows with tumultuous din, 

As if a thousand elves were hid within 

The fragile shape, whence now arise and grow 
Sounds as of voices tremulous with woe, 

Deeply deploring some unearthly sin. 

Listening, I hear the secret of thy heart, 
And why thy trembling strings must still 
complain: 
Thou art a lamentation and a cry 
Of bodiless souls, that, turning to depart 
From off the threshold of the vast inane, 
Call upon us who are about to die. 



65 



CALIFOKNIA. 

While by their hearths men sat and stories told 
Of fabled islands hidden in the west, 
Or spent their lives, all fruitless, in the quest, 

Thou wert asleep upon thy bed of gold, 

Thy treasure safely kept within thy hold, 
Until, awaking from a dream of rest, 
Thou baredst the secrets of thy mighty breast, 

And all thy wonders to the world unrolled. 

And yet, beware ! much gold can dull the brain, 
Can clog the springs of fancy, and destroy 
The soul with slow and subtle alchemy, — 
A baser race may rise to live for gain, 
Pitiful dullards may thy spoils enjoy, 
And thou, thyself, be but a mockery. 



66 



AUTUMN. 

I have watched them passing — youth, and love, 
and hope, — 

All are gone from me. 
With their ghosts I wander down life's autumn 
slope, 

Silent, drearily. 

Where the roses blossomed, splendid, purple, 
red, 

Grows the lotos-tree. 
Faded flowers and leafage round my path are 
spread, 

Sad and strange to see. 

"Failure, only failure ;" all the fancies fine 

Fled as shadows flee: 
But the dead are sleeping where the ivies 
twine, 

Oh, so peacefully ! 

67 



JACKSON'S LAST WOEDS. 

"Let me pass over the river, and rest in the 
shade of the trees." 

From Elysian fields they had come; they were 
met 
Their comrade's last pangs to appease; 
Far and fast had they flown, for they could not 
forget 
The night-watches under the trees. 

They whispered, "Commander! the night-watch 
is set, 

The old banner floats on the breeze; 
We are drawn up in line to the youngest cadet, 

Under the shade of the trees." 

68 






jackson's last words. 69 

He saw them — oh, wonder ! — the fever and fret, 

The traces of pain and disease 
Were gone, and he cried, "Good my friends 
let me get 

Away to the shade of the trees." 

So he passes with them to the white parapet. 

What welcoming voices are these ! 
Do you think that he grieves, or has any regret, 

Under the shade of the trees? 

Mighty hero! the sun of whose glory unset 

Gleams on the limitless seas, 
We shall pass o'er the River and walk with you 

yet, 

Under the shade of the trees. 



ENCHANTED GEOUND. 

In all these lands there is no restful place, 

No spot secure from sorrow may be found; 
Care lends a shadow to the dearest face, 
And many a heart conceals a mortal wound. 
But far away I know a fairer ground, 
A forest where 'tis summer all the year; 
Amid its leafy mazes horns resound, — 
There Jaques stands musing by the dying 
deer, 
And Touchstone fleets the time with jest and 
merry fleer. 

There smiling Kosalind, in April charm, 
Torments Orlando with her mirthful mood. 

How innocent are all and free from harm ! 
What gracious spirits in this solitude ! 

70 



ENCHANTED GROUND. 71 

But I must hie me to another wood, 
Outside of Athens, an it be not gone, — 

But no, it stands as stately as it stood, 
What time Titania flouted Oberon, 
And the bewildered lovers slept its sward upon. 

What soft enchantment wraps my soul away? 

The magic juice hath sure been spilt on me. 
Behold the sunken ships within the bay! 

Prospero weaves his web of glamourie, — 

Imprisoned Ariel struggles to be free, — 
Miranda with her Prince talks heart to heart. 

This is the isle where I have longed to be, 
Most subtly tinted by the Master's art; — 
Here let me rest, nor ever from these shores 
depart ! 



IN EXTREMIS. 

I. 

I spoke, but what I know not; 

I saw, yet did not see: 
The heart's deep fountains flow not 

In extreme misery. 
I closed the door upon the friend 
Whose love had lasted till the end. 

All was a blank — all yearning, 
All fear, all hope were gone: 

No star in silence burning 
Was ever more alone. 

I lent my body to the knife, 

And knew that it was death or life. 

"Not to give too much trouble," 
Was the last conscious thought; 

Then, like a breaking bubble, 
It passed, and I was naught, 

Until, awaking on my bed, 

I looked around astonished. 

72 



IN EXTBEMI3. 73 



II. 



An atom in the scale of things 
( Atoms can suffer ), quietly 

I watch the slow gray light that brings 
Another day of agony. 

Before me lies the broad, bright bay; 

I see the lumber-laden ships, 
Ready to start upon their way. 

How cool and fresh the water slips 

About their prows ! Bon voyage, — I 
Am sailing fast, more fast than you, 

To other seas, a stranger sky, 

And shores that mortal never knew. 



ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 

You made a song — it was a song of Skye — 
Full of the seas, the sun, the summer rain; 
To some it seemed a gem of melody, 
But others heard therein a cry of pain 
For the wild hills you might not see again. 
For me, it touched the springs which secret 
are 
Fast locked within the dull-remembering 
brain. 
I would have thanked you — you were gone 
too far — 
Nor in the immense of heaven could I discern 
your star. 

Only in dreams, only in dreams for me 
The mountains in their stormy glory rise, 

74 



ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 75 

Engirdled by the gray and desolate sea, 
And ever changing with a new surprise. 
For them you pined beneath your southern 
skies; 
And L that dearest earth so long untrod, 
Hopeless must love till patient memory 
dies. 
The hills, the purple heather, — O, my God! 
Might I but rest my head just once upon that 
sod! 

But not for me, as never now for you, 

The burn will fill the glen, the plover whir, 
Scattering in sudden flight the morning dew 
From moors made sweet with thyme and 

juniper, 
The dun deer glance behind the forest fir, 
The billows waste their fury on the strand — 
Treasured delights of the good years that 
were! 



76 BOBEBT LOUIS STEVENSON. 

No more in dusky Morven shall I stand, 
And watch the brown-sailed fisher-boats come 
home to land. 

Tranced in the splendor of the tropic sun, 
Soft be your cloudless sleep on Vaea's 
height ! 
Too few your years with swiftest shuttle spun, 
Yet yours the joy in so brief span to write 
That which shall live even in death's de- 
spite. 
And as we upward trail on broken wing, 

We hear your call — a trumpet in the night, 
And to some "rag of honor" closer cling, 
Counting all other loss a passing, trivial thing. 



I 



FORGET ME NOT. 

I cannot write you as I would. 

Ah me ! the slow words will not come. 
And yet, I wish you only good; 

The heart speaks, though the lips are dumb. 

To-day I found, unwittingly, 

Bright blooming in a sheltered spot, 

This floweret. Let it speak for me. 
Forget me not. 



77 



A REMINISCENCE. 

Do you remember how we sat together 
Once, at the closing of a winter day? 

The fire was lit, for it was bitter weather, 
And you were sad, and I was none too gay. 

And how I asked you, in a careless fashion, 
"Why do you knit your brows, as one in 
pain?" 
And you replied, with a swift, sudden passion, 
" Three black thoughts hold possession of 
my brain. 

"Three faces rise, as in a dream, before me — 
One, a fair woman's, whom I loved in youth; 

She robbed me of a good none can restore me — 
My early faith in purity and truth. 

78 



A. REMINISCENCE. 79 

"The second face is his — my friend, my brother. 

We swore our comradeship should last for 
aye; 
But that is past — we hardly know each other 

Now, when we meet upon the common way. 

"The third, the dearest face — alas! how sadly 
It looks from eyes heavy with tears unshed! 

Reproach me not, poor ghost; I loved thee 
madly. 
Cold is my heart with thine among the dead." 

I heard in silence. Not a word of cheering 
Came to my lips, so near, so far apart; 

No smile had I to give, no glance endearing, 
For I, too, had a sorrow at my heart. 



THE SINGERS. 

Delicate as Ariel, 

Swayed by every mood, 

Choosing still aloof to dwell 
From the multitude. 

Gold to them a feeble thing, 
Hardly worth the pains; 

Sorrow but a passing sting, 
While the joy remains, — 

The divinest joy of song, 

When the facile pen 
Traces thoughts that linger long 

In the souls of men. 

Thus they live within the light 

Streaming from above, 
And their voices in the night 

Sing of hope and love. 

80 



THE SINGERS. 81 

We who read their words of flame 

Can with them behold, 
In a glory without name, 

Mysteries untold. 

All the world before us lies 

In a golden gleam, 
And the gates of Paradise 

Open like a dream. 



MEMORIA SACRA. 

October winds are murmuring 

Their tremulous adagio; 
The sad thoughts that to me they bring, 

Could you but know. 

This desolate, autumnal day 

Is still to me a day of woe; 
I miss you more than words can say, 

Could you but know. 

Could you but know the tears I 've shed 
Since you departed, long ago, 

'T would vex you in your quiet bed, 
Could you but know. 



MEMORIA SACEA. 83 

When light beams brightly on my path, 
And kindly praises men bestow, 

My heart a fearful impulse hath, 
Could you but know. 

And when, by wandering stars beguiled, 

All dark and drearily I go, 
You would be sorry for your child, 

Could you but know. 



A MESSAGE. 

I send you here the lofty strain 
Of one whose soul was great, 

And hope his discipline of pain 
May never be your fate. 

And if, on a not distant day 
Of some fast-closing year, 

When the tired hand is cold in clay 
Which leaves this message here, 

You take the volume from its shelf, 
To glance it idly through, 

And read it softly to yourself, 
I shall be watching you. 

84 



A MESSAGE. 85 

Although no face your eye shall see, 

Nor any sound be heard, 
Although your hour of reverie 

Be broken by no word, 

I shall be standing by your chair, 

A silent influence 
Of which you may be half aware, 

On my departure thence. 



THE YEARS. 

The fleeting years, the flying years, 
How much they take away! — 

Life's early joys, its smiles and tears, 
Youth's beautiful, brief day. 

The bitter years, the barren years, 

A dolorous array; 
Hope, like a dim mirage, appears 

Upon their desert gray. 

The fatal years, the final years, 
Eemorseless, they sweep on; 

We hail Death's shadow as it nears, 
Impatient to be gone. 



86 



ON THE DEATH OF A CAT. 

A pretty, timid, gentle thing, 

Whose claws for me were always sheathed, 
That loved the very air I breathed, 

Is surely worth remembering. 

Perhaps it is not overwise, 

And yet I grieve that nevermore 
"Will it peep out behind the door, 

With playful welcome in its eyes. 

I know, I know I did my best 
To save it from the coming dark, 
And keep alight life's feeble spark, 

But — Death was stronger; — therefore, rest, 

87 



88 ON THE DEATH OF A CAT. 

Poor little friend; and when I, too, 
Shall lie in the unending sleep, 
May one true heart a vigil keep 

For me, as I this night for you. 

Helpers of man, that draw the plough, 
Or guard the fold, or purring lie 
On cottage hearths, ye beautify 

Our lives far more than we allow. 

The man who maims his brother man — 
Before him rises up the law, 
August, with eyes that overawe, 

Exact his least defect to scan. 

And shall not justice fall on them — 

The brutes endowed with human speech - 
Who break the law of love, and reach 

Out cruel hands, which none condemn? — 



ON THE DEATH OF A CAT. 89 

Who care not for the dumb surprise, 
The anguish of the beast o'erdriven? 
Dear God ! from thy high place in heaven, 

Dost thou not hear thy children's cries? 

For are they not his children, they 
Who serve without a recompense, 
Whose looks are full of eloquence, 

Expressing thoughts they may not say? 

We give them shelter, fire, and food, 

And, in return, they give us all, 

Obedient to our slightest call, — 
Their lives one act of gratitude. 

Let us to their deserts be just, 

Who hide no hate with smiling guise; 
No venom in their friendship lies — 

They purely love, and greatly trust. 



EVENING. 

When life is nearly over, 
And chimes the vesper bell, 

On face of friend or lover 

With long, long looks we dwell; 

For it is hard to part — 
To sunder heart from heart. 

When life is nearly over, 
Too late we can discern 

Good we could not discover, 
And truths we would not learn, 

When pressing on in haste 

Across life's mid-day waste. 

90 



EVENING. 91 



When life is nearly over, 
Our evil passions die; 

Faint wings about us hover, 
And voices from on high 

Call softly to the soul 

That neareth now its goal. 

When life at last is over, 
And tolls the funeral knell, 

Safe, safe beneath the clover 
We rest, and all is well; 

Nor are we loth to go — 
The high God wills it so. 



IN THE NIGHT. 

Look to the East. Can you see no light, 
No faintest glimmer of dawn to be? 
"'Tis the blackest hour of the black midnigh t, 
And our chariot wheels drive heavily." 



92 



THE HEAVENLY CITY. 

While longing from this empty show 

To flee away and rest, 
We lift our eyes, and O, the glow 

Of sunshine in the west! 

Fair city, where the rescued dwell, 
To thee our feet would haste; 

Might we but hear thy music swell, 
Thy living waters taste ! 

How greatly rise thy splendid walls 

Beside the shoreless sea! 
Within the shelter of thy halls 

What happy folk they be ! 



93 



A FKAGMENT. 

The few who hear thy magic voice 
Forsake life's common ways; 

They count thine unimagined joys 
More dear than fame or praise. 

Yet keen the air upon thy heights, 

Lonely thy rapturous delights. 



94 



VALE ATQUE VALE. 

For me, I never knew the way 
To gain the crowns of lif e — 

A chance spectator of the fray, 
A watcher of the strife. 

And so it is not hard for one 
With naught to lose or win, 

To mark the setting of the sun, 
And see the night begin. 



95 



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